


1980 Vintage

by babyrubysoho



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sex Dream, Tanned Ohno, age kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6856483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrubysoho/pseuds/babyrubysoho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ohno's thirtieth birthday does something to Nino, and he's not about to keep it to himself...</p><p>This is a somewhat weird fic, in which nothing much happens (as usual), and Nino watches Ohno in a very slightly stalkerish way.</p><p>*Note: I am currently transferring 12 years’ worth of my fic from various murky corners of the Net to AO3. So if this looks familiar, that’s probably why. Either that or I’m just appallingly unoriginal…*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Relations with Ohno are a puzzle, these days.

Nino knows – who doesn’t – that a lot of people think he and Ohno have something going on. There was a time, just once, that Nino thought so too.

But that was ten years ago, back when Ohno’s face was still pale and so chubby it was almost circular, and his teeth were still charmingly crooked. Nino had looked virtually the same as he does now, but with hair that makes him cringe. They were still getting to know each other, still feeling their way as a group; but Nino already knew he made the shy, introverted Ohno feel more comfortable than anyone else, and vice versa.

They were still new enough that they could hang out as a group without anyone knowing them: just five teenage boys in yukata at a summer fireworks festival, on a riverbank outside Tokyo with ten thousand other people and an injudicious amount of alcohol. Aiba and Jun were already flat on their backs and giggling, snorting at Sho’s vain attempts to make them sit up and behave; Nino had already known them for years, felt he could ignore their embarrassing antics and pretend he wasn’t friends with them, and spend all his attention on Ohno.

The older boy was stretched out next to Nino on their blanket, taking no notice of the others, just beaming silently whenever a firework broke overhead. Nino quickly got tired of staring at the sky, and rolled over on his side to watch Ohno instead, the way the colours danced across his pale skin. Ohno turned to him once or twice, grinning delightedly, fumbling for his hand and squeezing it with excitement. Nino didn’t try to let go; Ohno’s fingers were warm, beautiful, and felt like they fit his own perfectly, and Nino liked the way he was so easily pleased.

Jun and Aiba noticed them being ‘boring’ after a while, and took it upon themselves to pin Nino to the ground and pour chuu-hai straight down his throat. Nino didn’t mind much; he liked the floating feeling of being drunk, liked that he could throw an arm across Ohno without feeling awkward, liked that Ohno just smiled at him, his round face very close, breath alcoholic and sweet against his cheek. Then the older boy turned back to the fireworks, letting out the obligatory _oohs_ and _ahhs_ , his body soft and compliant in Nino’s arms.

Nino didn’t really care about fireworks, not when he was having such a good time being with his friends after the turbulence of their first year as a group. He rubbed his nose against Ohno’s ear, felt him laugh silently at the sensation; then pressed his mouth impulsively to the side of Ohno’s neck. Ohno did look at him then, quickly, shyly. Nino’s lips were too numbed with alcohol to feel much, but there was something there, he could tell, beneath Ohno’s warm, excited skin; something that made the hair stand up on his arms as Ohno shivered briefly under him; something beginning.

     Only it never had. It had only ever been a possibility anyway, Nino reflects; and after the first flush of shock and a momentary sexuality crisis, he had never let it become more. It hadn’t actually stopped him watching Ohno, though, as they grew up together, seeing the way the older boy’s features refined themselves into a deeper, richer prettiness over time (unlike Jun, who had transformed from a gawky squirt into a willowy vision of charm, eyebrows notwithstanding, almost overnight).   
Nino had become an adult watching Ohno, touching him, growing platonically (at least, in his own head) familiar with each curve and angle of him, as well as with a few of the mysterious processes that went on inside his close-mouthed Leader’s head.

     It’s from all this knowledge combined that Nino knows the ease with which, if he had wanted, he could have taken Ohno, how Ohno would have opened like a flower under his hands if he had ever made a serious move. He’s pretty sure Ohno is aware that he knows it. Nino wonders if he regrets that it never happened; it might have been wonderful; it would surely have felt good, because Ohno was lithe and flexible and perfectly put together, not to mention willing to do practically anything Nino asked in those days; and Nino _did_ love him. Does love him. But the sad fact of the matter is that Nino likes women, and can’t bring himself to find anything else more than theoretically erotic.

Still, it’s never stopped him looking.   
  
  


* * *

Nino is vaguely fascinated with how Ohno grows older, how he manages to stay the same and change at the same time, through the haircuts and the darkening skin that is the despair of the makeup girls.

Lately, which is to say for about the last year, he’s been thinking about it more, wondering just how long it will be before Ohno’s looks match the old-man personality he’s always being teased about. Nino finds the prospect almost exciting, intriguing, and stops every now and then to consider just how weird he is. He’s on the lookout now for each little sign, all the more since his Leader’s birthday, because it’s only now that Ohno seems to be taking note of it himself.

     If Nino were to make a list of these signs, which he emphatically _doesn’t_ , he’d say the first thing would be hands. People have always talked about Ohno’s hands, how they’re beautiful. And they still are: slender fingers, carefully shaped nails, and a painfully graceful way of moving, even when Ohno’s doing something as mundane as picking up a beer glass.   
But, reflects Nino, watching them as Aiba challenges the older man to a Wii Party game, you couldn’t mistake them for a girl’s hands anymore. The fishing has seen to that: they’re tanned and scratched and Nino feels the calluses whenever Ohno touches him. The sensation makes Nino tingle, for no good reason.

     Next would be the inevitable wrinkles, although Nino has a pretty hard time spotting them, even when Matsujun is warning his Leader about them in a doom-laden voice and plying him with collagen moisturiser. He finally finds them when Ohno raises his eyebrows amicably at their youngest member, fine lines across his smooth forehead.   
Matsujun really is a drama queen, thinks Nino, reaching across to cup Ohno’s chin in his hand and turn his face; Ohno beams at him, and Nino spots some more at the corners of his eyes. He’s momentarily smitten with the bizarre charm of it, and lets Ohno go. But he watches the progress of those little lines from then on, barely visible on the round, baby-faced features, trying to work out if there’s any drop in the beauty of Ohno’s eyes, the elegant curve of his nose, his perfect mouth. He doesn’t see any; the more Nino looks, the more it seems Ohno is just getting prettier, and that’s fascinating too.

     The next thing doesn’t even begin until after Ohno’s thirtieth birthday, and Nino is pretty sure it wouldn’t have started at all if people didn’t keep talking about the event and what getting older means. But he notices that Ohno, who up until now has thrown himself blithely into every task he’s told to, is starting to be careful with himself, as though turning thirty means he’s heading straight for a walking-stick. It’s sort of funny. It’s not something that outsiders would pick up on: Ohno will still fling himself agilely up a wall on VS Arashi, will still dance effortlessly, whenever and wherever, without seeming to tire at all (Nino has always liked to think of him as the Duracell bunny in that respect).   
It’s true that he spends most of his time in the green rooms lying motionless on whatever sofa is available, which is par for the course with Ohno; but now it seems a deliberate, sensible conservation of energy, rather than mere bone-idleness. He’s taken to giving theatrical sighs, too, rolling his slim shoulders and carefully arching his back after dance practice, testing for stiffness. Sometimes he asks Nino for a massage.

     And that’s another thing, Nino reflects, as he grumbles waspishly to himself and slides his hands down the firm curve of Ohno’s back, hearing his Leader give a muffled groan of mixed discomfort and relaxation (the relaxation speaks for itself; the discomfort is where Nino has his bony knee jammed deliberately into the back of Ohno’s thigh – Ohno never returns massages, and Nino’s going to get a kick out of it somehow). In their long history together it has always been Nino, the romantically unattached (unattached to Ohno, at least) party, who initiates physical contact. He could always tell how eagerly Ohno waited for it, how he melted unobtrusively and happily under the affectionate touches; and how careful the older man was to let Nino make all the moves; perhaps he was worried he would spook Nino, who made a point, among the five of them at least, of showing off each girlfriend that came along.

     But not any more. Nino thinks that Ohno, finally, is resigned to the way things are between them, as well as being utterly sure of the staying-power of Nino’s friendship; instead of hovering hopefully like a puppy under the dinner table, these days Ohno’s hands find Nino of their own accord: slung around his shoulder, sliding across his back, leg pressed against his. It’s never as blatant as Nino used to be; Ohno is older, they both are, and it seems right to be more subtle. Nino wonders whether this increase in body contact is some kind of maturity, or just down to the fact that he doesn’t have a girlfriend right now; either way it’s partly annoying, and then again heavy with the same fascination that all Ohno’s ageing processes seem to hold for him.

  
  


* * *

     “I think I’m a pervert,” confesses Nino between photoshoots one day, pressed tight against Ohno’s shoulder. Ohno opens his eyes, sleepily, rolls his other shoulder until it cracks.

“There’s a newsflash,” he says after a minute, wincing. Nino slides one arm around his back and rubs the offending joint soothingly (it’s not an age thing; Aiba cracks from head to toe, mostly to annoy Jun, but Nino finds he’s happy for the excuse to be close to Ohno).

“I think I’ve got an older-woman fetish,” Nino explains. Ohno frowns at him for a minute, then chuckles briefly before leaning back into the caressing hand.

“Why do you think so?” he asks, but Nino has already had enough talking, partly because he finds he doesn’t want to explain any further and partly because it’s distracting to have Ohno’s face so close. Ohno’s eyes are dark, clear, with a fringe of straight lashes; they haven’t changed a bit since the day Nino first saw them, except in their expression, which is confident now, if a little reserved. He’s always found them beautiful, just like the rest of Ohno is beautiful: something to look at, be proud of, show off. But the tiny lines at the corners of those eyes, which are almost invisible when Ohno is staring at him seriously as he is now, are creating a combination that does things to Nino’s libido and sends a gentle wash of _something_ up his spine.

“Oh-chan…” Nino leans in closer, not thinking about it at all, and rubs his nose lightly against the top of Ohno’s left cheekbone; Ohno’s skin is soft and warm, full of vitality; Nino hears him take a breath, quickly, then freeze.

“Who’s the older woman?” asks Ohno, carefully, turning his face away to gaze at the window, so that Nino’s nose is now brushing his ear. The faint, unassuming scent of Ohno’s shampoo sends another tingle dancing across the back of Nino’s neck.

“No-one in particular.” He runs his fingers through the soft caramel of Ohno’s hair, making the older man turn his head back with a start. “It’s just a feeling.” Ohno’s breathing is deep, a little unsteady; Nino can feel it in the rise and fall of his shoulders. Part of him is demanding to know what the hell he thinks he’s doing right now; but it’s not a very important part, not compared to the sensation of Ohno under his hands, totally familiar and yet startlingly new.

Ohno licks his lips nervously, blinking at the closeness. Nino finds himself staring at the faint gleam on the pink skin, and his eyes widen.

“See you, Oh-chan,” he says hurriedly, and scrambles up and away before the thought he just had can go anywhere. He feels Ohno watching him leave, warily.    
  
  
  


* * *

That night Nino has a sex dream. It’s honestly the first he’s ever had involving Ohno (no, really. He had one about Sho once, but he was seventeen back then and had only been traumatised for about a fortnight). In the dream, he somehow knows, Arashi is finally retired; maybe a couple of years older than SMAP are now, he and Ohno are in a house, the décor (or lack) of which just screams ‘Leader’. Ohno is older, and he looks it, as he strips off his fishing jacket and toes off his boots in the entranceway, worn out and grinning in satisfaction. He runs a dark hand through his hair, which has been allowed to grow out to its original black.

Nino, who has been watching this dream-Ohno avidly, is surprised to find the other man’s arms suddenly around him, and then a second later is even more shocked when he himself shifts towards Ohno and their mouths meet as easily as if this had happened a hundred times before. Ohno tastes salty, from being at sea presumably, and his pretty lips are chapped. Nino pulls back a little, hands running along Ohno’s hips in a practiced way, and takes a good look at him: the lines around his eyes are deeper than he’s ever seen, especially since Ohno is still smiling at him, though his face is as round as ever. He cups Ohno’s cheek; the skin is a little rough, as though Ohno has indeed spent the past decade ignoring Matsujun’s skincare regime and messing about in boats.

All this just about does it for Nino, who in his dream, at least, can see nothing wrong with the image of Ohno and himself in such an intimate position. He tugs Ohno towards him again, roughly, and the next thing he knows they’re on the floor with the older man naked beneath him and complaining half-heartedly about how tired he is, how the fish is going to spoil if they don’t put it away.

Nino is slightly annoyed with his dream for missing out so many of the good bits, but gets over it, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of Ohno, the sensation of slim legs wrapped around his hips. Ohno is dark, tanned all over apart from a section of pale skin that stretches from his hips to just above his knees; it looks like someone started to colour him in, but ran out of ink before they could finish. Nino feels himself blush, but doesn’t stop staring. Ohno’s body is still slender and lovely, but it’s no longer a young man’s; it’s obvious to Nino that he has to make an actual effort to keep it in trim, rather than just letting the active life of an idol do the work for him.

_ Beautiful _ , thinks Nino giddily, and leans down to take Ohno in his arms, gently, carefully, as though his Leader would break. He hears Ohno snort with amusement.

“ _You’re always like this,_ ” the older man tells him, and in another second Nino is on his back, Ohno sprawled across him triumphantly, pushing a knee between his legs and moving until Nino is hard and gasping. “ _I’m forty_ ,” Ohno continues, eyebrows raised, more lines on his forehead that make Nino want to devour him. “ _Not drawing my pension_.”

“ _Love you_ ,” Nino blurts out, and Ohno beams, pressing his body closer until Nino is dizzy with the heat, and –    


And wakes up.   
  
  


* * *

  
  


The next morning Nino, who has spent the rest of the night on his couch after having to strip the sheets off his bed, arrives at work in a thoughtful mood. The others notice how it deepens once Ohno rolls in, yawning and stretching himself into an arc; he throws a soft, puzzled glance at Nino, who has neglected to say hello and is staring instead at the fingers of Ohno’s left hand as he wiggles the cold out of them.

“Are you cross with me?” Ohno asks under his breath, later, softly so as not to draw the attention of the others (who are currently engaged in a full-scale squabble about who may or may not have eaten Jun’s tiramisu when he wasn’t looking).

“No,” says Nino, baldly, though he’s not actually sure about that answer. Since setting eyes on the older man that morning, Nino has been able to pin a label on his vague feelings of fascination; and that label very clearly says ‘desire’. He mostly blames dream-Ohno for this unwelcome revelation, and is unfairly extending that to the real thing. He’s been dissecting the dream ever since he got up, and still can’t point to a reason why he would have dreamt that they were lovers, or why it had felt so effortless. But he can’t forget the sensations of having that Ohno, and in his dream that was ten years ahead; what would Ohno feel like _now_? Nino’s hands itch; he wants to know. Ohno sighs next to him, relaxes carefully, not looking completely happy. Nino swallows; he wants to know! He suddenly wants to know what his Leader felt like ten years ago, too, that night by the river; but that ship has already sailed, which is yet another reason for his mood.

“Leader!” says Jun, breaking into Nino’s thoughts and making him blink grumpily. “Did _you_ eat my dessert?”

“Don’t look at me!” quavers Ohno theatrically, next to him, doing his best to look decrepit. “I’m just an _ooold_ man, I don’t have the energy to make it to the fridge…”

From that reply Nino is pretty sure that it _was_ him, and grins grudgingly, even as he’s hit again by the desire to take Ohno in his arms like he did last night, to learn every inch of his body as it exists at this point in time. Even Jun cracks a smile, through Aiba’s dismal cry of “hah! It was Leader! Why do you always blame _me_ , Jun-kun?”

“Old man,” says Jun, ruffling Ohno’s hair, ignoring Aiba. “What am I going to do with you? We’ll have to get you married off while you’re still eligible.” Ohno pokes his tongue out, looks amused.

“As it happens, I have a date after work, so you can leave off worrying.”

Aiba immediately lets out an adolescent ‘ _woooooooooo_ ’ noise of epic proportions, giving him two thumbs up. Nino, on the other hand, is quiet for once, because he’s encountering a feeling he doesn’t remember ever having before, though he knows immediately that it’s _jealousy_. To his amazement, he finds that he doesn’t _want_ to see someone else’s fingers threading through Ohno’s hair, doesn’t _want_ to hear about Ohno’s dates; and he certainly doesn’t want to hear the term ‘marriage’ anywhere in conjunction with Ohno again.

“Leave it out, guys,” he hears himself snap, and everyone turns to look at him. “He’s only got three years on us, it’s not a race to the altar.” Jun just shrugs, puzzled, and holds his hands up before turning back to chastise Aiba some more. But Ohno is looking at him guardedly, eyebrows locked down in that rare frown; Nino wants to reach across and kiss the little line on his forehead. He sits on his hands instead.

“Are you _sure_ you’re ok?” asks Ohno carefully.

“I’m fine.”   
  
  


* * *

“I’m not fine,” Nino confesses desperately, in the dark outside the Jimusho. It’s late, past dinner time, everyone is going home. He had to race to catch Ohno, grabbing his gloved wrist before he could reach the lights that lead to the street. “I’m _not_ fine,” he says again.

“I’ll be late,” says Ohno, mildly, giving an experimental tug to see if Nino will let go of him. “I said I’d meet her at nine.”

“Oh-chan.” Nino slides his free hand up the back of Ohno’s neck, feels the small slice of chilly skin bared to the wind. Nino doesn’t know why he’s doing this, why, all of a sudden, or even exactly what it is he’s doing; it can’t _all_ be the stupid dream’s fault. Ohno’s breath steams in the cold air; Nino wants to kiss him until it stops.

“I have to go,” Ohno tells him again, too firmly, his hand gripping Nino’s raised arm too tightly. Nino leans closer until his nose brushes Ohno’s cold cheek.

“Please,” he says, inarticulately, tugging Ohno against him. The older man doesn’t reply, though his breath hitches ambiguously. “ _Please_ ,” he begs again; he doesn’t care that they’re only metres from the Jimusho, that anyone could see them if they peered into the darkness.

“…What?” whispers Ohno at last, his voice uncertain, intimate.

“ _Don’t go_.” Nino screws up his eyes, and kisses him. He takes a harsh breath at the brief feeling of Ohno’s lips against his; then Ohno is pulling back as if Nino burns, his eyes wide in the blackness.

“What’re you doing?” asks Ohno wretchedly, beginning to shiver. But Nino can’t do anything except shake his head and kiss him again, over and over, intoxicated by the warmth and smoothness of his mouth. Ohno lets out a little moan, half complaining and half questioning, as if Nino is being totally unfair.

“Please,” repeats Nino, murmuring it over and over between kisses, fingers pressing against the nape of Ohno’s neck. “ _Please_.” Ohno’s gloved hands are twisted tightly in the back of his coat; his lips finally part, reluctantly, and Nino is immediately dizzy with the heat.

“Someone will see,” says Ohno when he has a moment to breathe, still protesting.

“Then come home with me.”

“But I…” Ohno doesn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence; Nino guesses it’s a mixture of guilt and worry and just plain not knowing what the hell Nino’s doing. Well, Nino barely knows that himself, but he can’t _stop_. He wraps Ohno in a bone-crushing hug that’s supposed to be reassuring. Ohno doesn’t move, doesn’t complain. Nino turns his head, takes in the scent of his Leader’s hair, and his libido does a little jig of excitement. That settles it.

“I’ll get a taxi,” he says.  



	2. Chapter 2

Ohno doesn’t say a word in the back of the car – he can’t, not really, even as Nino’s thumb is rubbing insistently, seductively against his left wrist-bone. As soon as they spill into Nino’s apartment, though, and Nino is kissing his hands, his mouth, the corners of his eyes with an almost frantic intensity, Ohno speaks up.

“What’s happening?” he asks, muffled for a second as Nino catches his lips again and jerkily unzips his jacket. “…What is this, Nino?” he demands again, then has to stop and bite his lip as Nino moves to his throat.

“…What it looks like,” mutters Nino breathlessly, tugging haphazardly at fabric, not much wanting to stop exploring to talk; Ohno _does_ taste a little salty, though it could just be nervousness, his skin fevered beneath Nino’s mouth. “I _want you_ , Oh-chan.”

“Why…now?” Nino loves how Ohno is trying to sound patient, and keeps quiet so he can concentrate on his shirt buttons. But when Nino’s fingers reach for his belt buckle Ohno freezes, then gently but inexorably pushes Nino away, holding him at arm’s length and gazing at him seriously. Nino cocks his head and looks charming as only he knows how, but Ohno purses his lips and remains resolute, which only serves to make Nino breathe even faster: this particular expression of Ohno’s makes him look like a teenager; it’s like Nino is getting two eras of Leader in one.

“This is gonna sound stupid,” Nino tells him, looking worryingly unabashed now that he’s decided what he wants. “I had a dream about you.” Ohno doesn’t look very enlightened by this. “You were older, like, ten years older,” continues Nino, his hands reaching up to clasp Ohno’s slim forearms. “And you were so beautiful…”

A worried flash of _something_ crosses Ohno’s face. “Go on,” he says quietly.

“But even before that,” confesses Nino, who is currently thinking _in for a penny, in for a pound_ , “the way you’ve been looking, the way you’ve been acting…” He shakes his head. Ohno just looks confused now. “When your eyes crinkle up, when you look tired…when you complain about your back…” He lets out a short, wondering laugh. “It’s _hot_.”

“It’s what??”

“It’s _hot_ , Oh-chan,” Nino states firmly. “ _You_ are.” Ohno’s eyes widen, dark and pretty, and he finally lets Nino go, looking scared, doubtful, even a little angry.

“And you just decided this _now_?” he asks. Nino nods, and he lets out a tiny laugh that has nothing to do with humour. “Are you _sure_?” he presses. “Because you know I… I always wanted this. You know that, right?” he says in a small voice. Nino nods, and reaches out to cradle Ohno’s cheek in his hand, hope tightening his chest. Ohno doesn’t try to evade it; he leans into Nino’s palm and carries on, not meeting his eyes. “And if you decided, halfway through, that you didn’t…it’d really hurt, see?”

“I do see,” Nino tells him, and the next second is kissing him again; he hopes Ohno will take this as enough proof that he means what he says. There is a long, awkward moment, and then Nino feels Ohno’s lips part, hears the soft, longing moan as his tongue slips past Ohno’s teeth. Then Ohno begins to kiss him back and everything is disjointed, disordered and Nino can’t tell where the older man ends and he begins; there’s nothing in his senses but the heat of the embrace and the blackness behind his closed eyes.

By the time Nino has negotiated Ohno’s coat and shirt onto the floor and has manoeuvred him forward into his living-room, his Leader’s kisses have turned desperate too, and he’s fumbling at Nino’s sweater, blind and awkward because Nino won’t let him up for air. At last he tears his mouth away to take a much-needed breath, and Nino makes a bee-line again for the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Nino, am I…am I your _older woman_?” demands Ohno breathlessly, as though he’s only just made the connection, and then lets out a little squeak of surprise as Nino tangles their legs and pushes him down to the rug. “…Well?” he says again, hands ghosting across the ticklish spot on Nino’s back. Nino bites his ear, just a little too hard.

“Yeah,” he admits unashamedly, leaning up on his elbow to take a good look at Ohno’s bared torso, the skin smooth and still tanned from the summer, a deep contrast to the silver necklace with its tiny fish pendant (a present, Nino’s not sure from whom).

“But it was _you_ who said…” Ohno bats away Nino’s wandering hand, “…that I was only three years ahead of you guys.”

“But you’re thirty,” explains Nino in a muffled voice, dropping his head to take one of Ohno’s small pink nipples between his teeth and worry it gently. “That’s a whole new decade…” He slides his hand behind Ohno’s back, pushing him upwards, running his tongue over the hardening flesh. Ohno whimpers, and yet again the sound amazes Nino, who resolves to drag out every noise of pleasure Ohno is capable of by the end of the night.

“I’m still not that old…” protests Ohno vaguely.

“But you’re _so_ hot.” Nino surges back up to kiss him, another pang of arousal hitting him as Ohno’s arms slide around his neck. “You’ve _never_ looked so good, I just wanna…”

“Wha…?” says Ohno faintly, Nino trailing kisses along his round jawline until he can’t even get the word out.

“I wanna _eat_ you,” Nino finishes, sinking his teeth lightly into the hollow of Ohno’s throat, tasting the salt on the damp skin, forcing a soft whine out of the older man.

“You’re supposed…to treat me carefully,” Ohno reproves him, hooking one leg around his hip, “if I’m so _elderly_ …you might break me.”

“That’s not what you said in my dream.” Nino is fiddling with his belt buckle again.

“Well…I wasn’t real. I mean _he_ wasn’t. I mean…” Ohno gives up, and pushes his knee upwards, throwing Nino off balance and rolling him over to straddle him triumphantly.

“I dunno,” says Nino, the pressure of Ohno’s hips against his own feeling far too good; “you’re acting pretty much like him right now.”

“Is this how you want it, then?” purrs Ohno, suddenly grinning, one leg pressing between Nino’s thighs. Nino blinks at the change, then lets his eyes narrow playfully.

“We’ll fight for it,” he says firmly. It’s a fight he’s pretty sure he’ll lose, because Ohno doesn’t go fishing for nothing and there are muscles in his slender arms, whereas Nino makes it a point never to pick up anything heavier than a DS for fun. Still, he thinks it will be enjoyable trying, so he grabs Ohno’s arms, pushing up against him. Ohno inhales swiftly, then pushes back.

After several minutes of wrestling, which involves more biting, groping and giggling than Nino thinks is technically allowed in the sport, Ohno still has the upper hand. Nino scowls, purses his lips, and gives it one last burst of energy, because he’ll never be the kind of person to like losing, even if it _is_ to Ohno. But to his surprise, Ohno suddenly seems to lose his balance, allowing Nino to push him down, reversing their positions once again. Nino hears the older man sigh defeatedly, and gives him a suspicious look.

“I’m getting fat,” offers Ohno dolefully as an explanation, lying flat on his back and gazing down ruefully at his little body. “Gotta stop drinking; I can’t keep up.” Nino sniggers incredulously into his hair, running both hands across his flat stomach victoriously and round to squeeze his marvellous ass. “Life’s no fun when you’re old,” continues Ohno self-indulgently, letting out a little gasp of pleasure at the movement of Nino’s fingers.

“I don’t know,” mutters Nino. “Doesn’t seem like you have much reason to complain.” He rocks his hips quickly against Ohno’s, to feel the older man press up against him lithely.

“Ah…” begins Ohno, and then Nino’s hand is inside his jeans, making him lose his breath and the thread of his thought. “You won’t be saying that…when you have to help me out of my chair every day,” he manages.

“You’re like wine, Oh-chan,” Nino reassures him, nuzzling his neck. “You just get finer with age.”

“You _are_ a pervert. You- ” Ohno lets out an abrupt moan as Nino’s fingers begin to stroke him, and the sound is enough to get Nino hard and blushing in a matter of seconds.

“You gave up on purpose, didn’t you,” he whispers, watching the expressions flit across Ohno’s round face like clouds. He squeezes gently, and Ohno grimaces with pleasure.

“I’ve wanted this to happen…for so long,” admits Ohno, burying his face in Nino’s neck, “I just can’t believe…” He pauses, his own hands travelling down Nino’s back, their touch almost burning through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “…I’ll do this any way you want me,” he says finally. Nino feels something clutch at his heart at how patiently Ohno has waited for him; but it’s a good something.

“I wish I’d had you when you were younger,” he murmurs, stroking the soft, short waves of Ohno’s hair. Ohno looks at him quickly, as if he can’t tell whether to be hurt or not, and Nino waves his hand around, suddenly realising how callous that sounded. “I mean,” he explains, gently cupping the back of Ohno’s neck, “that it’s a shame I missed so many years…” Ohno frowns, and Nino ardently kisses the line between his eyebrows, just like he wanted to do earlier. “…I want to know what you felt like then, now, ten years on…all of it. I regret not having all of you, that’s all.”

“Have me _now_ ,” whispers Ohno, his soft voice unsteady with want, and Nino doesn’t need telling twice.

“Come to bed with me, Oh-chan.” Ohno blushes an attractive crimson beneath the tan, but takes Nino’s hand without hesitation and allows himself to be pulled up and led into the small bedroom, jeans falling down his hips.

“Do you even game in _here_?” Nino hears him ask, as he tugs his t-shirt over his head.

“I game everywhere,” states Nino firmly, crawling up the bed to reach Ohno, brushing aside controllers and manuals to make space for the older man to relax. As soon as Ohno settles against the pillows Nino is on him, tugging his pants off in one enthusiastic, jerky movement. “This isn’t a game, though,” he says, and catches his breath at the view beneath him.

Ohno is blushing harder, making a move to hide himself with his hands.

“Keep still,” Nino orders, and Ohno obeys, turning his head to the side. Nino kneels over him, feels the warmth radiating from him. “There’s no need to be shy with me, Oh-chan,” he reassures him, tilting Ohno’s face back towards him with gentle pressure. “I just want to look at you.”

“You’ve seen me before,” Ohno counters, his voice thick. Nino smirks; whatever Ohno says, this arouses him: he’s beginning to get hard beneath Nino’s stare, which just seems to make him more embarrassed.

“Yeah,” agrees Nino easily. “But I haven’t _seen_ you.” He runs his fingers in a ragged line down to Ohno’s belly-button. “So don’t move ‘til I’m done.”

Nino looks, and looks, but looking isn’t enough, he finds. So he sets his lips gently to Ohno’s arched neck, past the shining links of his necklace, following the path his gaze has just taken, trying to commit every inch of what he is, _now_ , _today_ , to memory. Ohno inhales sharply, sighs, his long fingers tangling helplessly in Nino’s hair.

“Slowly, slowly,” says Nino dreamily, his mouth trailing down the centre of Ohno’s chest, hands tracing the contours of his arms. Ohno’s body is different from his dream, and different again from the skinny boy of eighteen Nino remembers; his torso, his arms still match the general slightness of his frame, but now they’re toned by ten years of dancing. His thighs, which for some unknown reason he has a complex about, are slim, not as skinny as Nino’s maybe, although to Nino they look perfectly juicy and biteable. Ohno is as lovely to taste as he is to look at, skin warm and smooth beneath Nino’s tongue; he loves the way it shivers when Ohno moans.

Ohno’s winter tan, faint and golden, ends at his waist; Nino pauses to kiss the line where it meets the pale skin below his navel.

“You’re gonna be _so_ dark in ten years’ time,” Nino informs him, delighted with the prospect.

“Not if Jun has his way,” murmurs Ohno dreamily, exhaling slowly as Nino rests his head on his flat stomach, his hands tight and possessive on Ohno’s narrow waist.

“You’ll do whatever you like, Oh-chan,” Nino assures him firmly. “You’ll go fishing every week.” He can hear Ohno make a pleased, contented little noise at that, which changes abruptly to a moan of real shock because Nino’s hands are suddenly braced against his hips and his mouth has moved down to lick a thoughtful line along the side of his cock. Nino feels the hard shudder under his hands, and grins, letting his tongue explore until Ohno’s clutch on his hair becomes painful.

“Let go, Oh-chan,” he orders, taking a firm grip on the base of Ohno’s hard-on and waiting until the older man can focus his eyes. He repeats the order, and Ohno’s fingers leave his hair to twist in the sheets beneath him. Nino nods, and continues; Ohno is delicious, even more now that he’s whimpering softly to the rhythm of Nino’s tongue. Nino takes a breath, wastes a moment wondering just how he got from the dream of last night to this point right now, then shakes his head and closes his mouth over Ohno’s erection. Ohno lets out an inarticulate sound, and Nino manages to smile through the bizarre sensation. He closes his eyes, concentrating on doing it properly, trying to respond to every little noise Ohno makes while holding his Leader’s hips down, not letting him move an inch to help himself.

When Nino finally looks up the line of Ohno’s body, having counted at least fourteen different sounds, he sees that Ohno is glowing, his eyes tight shut, white teeth digging into his bottom lip. There’s a sheen on the tanned skin and Nino can see every line on his face, etched more deeply by frustration and pleasure. Nino considers continuing but, true to form, decides a little brattiness in bed never hurt anyone, and immediately removes himself from Ohno’s vicinity, mouth, hands and all.

“ _Nino_ …!” Ohno moans, distraught, disbelieving, and Nino’s head spins at his voice. “Please…!”

Nino ignores him. Ohno is practically sobbing with unfulfilled arousal, pleading and calling Nino names under his breath; Nino just kisses him lightly and rolls him over to take a good look at the rear view, which is equally breathtaking.

“That ass is a _work of art_ ,” he tells Ohno happily, quickly hopping out of his own pants and underwear, as hard as Ohno now at the sight. Once again he runs his hands down Ohno’s little waist, over the gentle curve of his hips while his teeth nip gently at the nape of Ohno’s neck. The almost comical sound of desire and frustration Ohno lets out when Nino’s fingers finally grasp his behind makes teasing him all worth it, as far as Nino is concerned. Nino squeezes, pinches, kneads to his heart’s content; as everyone knows, his fascination with Ohno’s ass has a long history, and he’s not about to let this opportunity go to waste.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breathing it against the shell of Ohno’s ear, and Ohno obeys him eagerly, letting out a tense whimper as Nino slips a finger inside him cautiously. “You’ve never done this,” Nino confirms, almost wonderingly; surely not everyone else can be as blind as he’s been to Ohno’s startling appeal.

“I…never wanted…any other man,” breathes Ohno, his hands balled nervously into fists against the sheets. Nino feels extremely undeserving right now, but he’s not about to let it stop him.

“I’ll be careful,” he says, kissing the place where Ohno’s neck meets his shoulder. He levers himself up reluctantly, away from the radiance of Ohno’s warmth. Ohno shivers, makes a noise of protest. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Nino explains, “so just stay put for a minute.”

He trots into the bathroom, fumbling through cabinets, resolving to actually buy lube the very next day. He makes his way back and reclines next to Ohno, sliding one arm around him comfortingly while he flips the cap off the bottle of baby oil with the other hand (yes, Nino’s a guy, but he’s also an idol, and that’s taught him to be just vain enough to need a beauty routine).

“All right?” he asks, and Ohno nods, clutching at his forearm wordlessly. Nino slides one finger inside him again, deeper, hears him swallow with apprehension. “Oh-chan. If it hurts, you have to tell me, ok?” Ohno nods vaguely, but Nino is insistent, because however confident he wants to be for his Leader, he’s still fairly terrified.

“…Ok,” answers Ohno eventually, soft, regular moans spilling from his lips at every move Nino makes. Nino adds a second finger and Ohno bites down on a gasp. Nino doesn’t know if _he’ll_ be able to stand it, never mind Ohno, because the sight of his face combined with those _sounds_ is almost enough to tip him over the edge.

It doesn’t take too long for Ohno to get used to the sensation, if his expression and the way his hips are beginning to move are anything to go by.

“ _Please, please, please_ ,” Ohno begs rhythmically, his fingers tight around Nino’s free hand, long nails digging into the skin.

“Not yet,” says Nino, determined to hold himself back if it kills him. “You’re still too tight, Oh-chan.”

“ _I want you_ ,” Ohno tells him. Nino takes a deep, steadying breath, slides in a third finger, and sees Ohno’s eyes widen.

“See?” Nino strokes Ohno’s hair soothingly as he moves his fingers harder, deeper, hears Ohno cry out quietly. “Have a little fortitude, Leader.” Ohno reaches up, eyes screwed shut at the effort, and kisses him, wet and untidy and desperate. Now it’s Nino’s turn to gasp; he presses his hard-on against Ohno’s thigh, feels Ohno’s nervous, breathless laughter against his lips.

“All right,” pants Nino when he can breathe, withdrawing his fingers from the heat of Ohno’s body, “I’m gonna do it.”

“ _Quickly_ …”

“No, not quickly,” says Nino, trying to sound stern and failing as he slides an oil-slick hand over his own erection. “We’re gonna go soooo slow you’ll go crazy.” He glides his hands in one long, slow motion from Ohno’s shoulders down the curve of his back, nudging his legs further apart. Ohno obligingly raises his hips, though Nino, as he kneels between his legs and takes some deep, steadying breaths, sees that Ohno’s teeth are already clenched apprehensively.

“You’re _so beautiful_ ,” Nino tells him, and begins to ease his way inside. He purses his lips; Ohno is tight, almost too much so, and transparently nervous despite his lack of protest. Nino makes some encouraging, relaxing noises, leaning forward to kiss Ohno’s spine as he slowly pushes deeper.

“ _Ahhh_ …” is all Ohno can manage at the moment; Nino can see the whites of his pretty eyes all round, so he stops, holding himself very still.

“Breathe,” he suggests, not wanting to move, even to comfort his Leader.

“…I’m ok,” mutters Ohno, after a minute, though his grip on the bedspread doesn’t loosen. “It’s just…so…”

“I know,” whispers Nino, in a rush. “I know, Oh-chan.” The older man is so hot it’s like a furnace, warming the whole of Nino’s body as he braces himself above him. Ohno seems to calm down a little, and wiggles experimentally, and Nino thinks he’s going to lose his mind. He takes a firm hold on Ohno’s delicious hips, and begins to move again, shallow at first and then deeper to see how he’ll react.

“It hurts, doesn’t it,” he says immediately, as Ohno lets out a stifled cry.

“ _Mm_ ,” breathes Ohno, which Nino takes to mean ‘yes’; “but it’s not… _bad_.”

“Shall I stop for a minute?”

“No!”

Nino shakes his head, amazed, but obeys his Leader for once, moving gently, building up a rhythm. Once Ohno’s whimpers have changed their tone to one of the ‘pleasure’ frequencies Nino recognises from earlier, he begins to move more confidently, rocking Ohno forward with each thrust. When he slides his hand around Ohno’s stomach, he feels that he’s somehow still hard, and begins to touch him teasingly; Ohno’s moans go up a key.

“Faster,” growls Ohno, still wearing an expression of mingled pain and delight that Nino has never seen before today but wants to cause again at every possible opportunity from now on. He speeds up, and Ohno groans, one lovely hand joining Nino’s to slide slowly over his cock, arching his back so that Nino’s nose is buried in his hair and inhaling the heady scents of sweat and shampoo..

“You take…a lot of pleasing,” Nino pants after a while, when every attempt to slow down and take it easy is met by a noise of warning from Ohno. Nino knows he has less stamina than the older man, again probably down to the fishing/gaming issue, and to his chagrin it’s beginning to show. He really, _really_ wants to come, but Ohno doesn’t seem ready yet – Nino supposes it might still hurt too much for him to really get there – and he feels it would be _rude_ to finish first.

“Oh-chan,” he manages, chest heaving, “I –”

“Are you…ahh… _tired_?!” Ohno makes a disbelieving noise, still going strong. “I thought _I_ was the old man…”

“ _Shut up_.” Nino comes to an abrupt halt, panting, and gives Ohno a light cuff round the back of the head. He gently pulls out of the older man, despite his furious moan of protest, and pushes him over to the side of the bed, flopping down to lie spread-eagled on his back. Ohno pouts, looks devastated at the interruption.

“You have so much energy?” puffs Nino. He nods down at himself, challengingly. “Then get on.”

Ohno blinks, then grins in a faintly predatory way, his round face glowing, and swings one leg over Nino’s hips to kneel above him.

“Fine. But you can’t complain.”

“Nngh!” is all Nino can say in return to that, as Ohno braces himself and lowers himself back onto Nino’s cock, gritting his teeth and letting his breath out in a rush, still smiling. He starts moving, eyes sliding shut and head thrown back, one hand planted firmly on Nino’s stomach and the other gripping his thigh to give himself leverage.

Nino gazes up at him, swept along by the heady pace and trying to think deeply unsexy thoughts (Jun in curlers does the trick) to stop himself coming immediately. It’s not easy, because the view is incredible: Ohno’s face is flushed, his beautiful lips parted as he gulps in air, his small body gleaming and golden in contrast to Nino’s own white skin. Ohno increases the pace yet again, and Nino can do nothing but moan and take hold of his Leader’s hips to help him balance, hands sliding up his torso to pinch at his nipples until Ohno is whimpering too.

“Nino…” Ohno murmurs enthusiastically, riding him faster until Nino is about to see stars, “love you, I _love you_ …”

“Me…me too,” is all Nino can get out, hanging on for dear life, “ _always_ have.” Ohno beams, even though he’s wincing a little now; Nino’s hips are fairly bony and he’s pretty sure Ohno will have some bruises tomorrow, though that’s probably the least of his worries. Nino pushes himself up on his elbows and bends his knees so that Ohno has to lean forward; he loves this position, loves looking up at Ohno so close above him like he just fell straight from heaven. Ohno’s necklace is banging against his nose, but he doesn’t care, just grabs onto the slick flesh of Ohno’s ass to push him down deeper.

“ _Come already_ , Oh-chan,” he begs, so close now that not even thoughts of Sho’s cooking can help. Ohno nods frantically, wraps Nino’s hand around his erection and squeezes, and a second later he comes, hot and sticky across Nino’s stomach, Nino kissing his chin, his throat, every bit of him he can reach.

“Fuck…” Nino gasps in relief; Ohno doesn’t slow down, so he just lets go, screwing up his face as he climaxes, hearing Ohno’s startled intake of breath at the strange sensation; Nino has never felt, can’t imagine there _could_ be, anything better than Ohno right now, and even in the middle of the rush of ecstasy he silently thanks his dream for alerting him to it before he could miss any more.

Ohno collapses on top of him, a hot, wet, delicious weight. Nino tries to breathe slowly, and doesn’t much care when he finds he can’t, just wraps his arms around Ohno and holds him until he’s stopped shaking.

“You should’ve told me earlier that you can come on demand,” mumbles Nino, hand splayed across Ohno’s lower back. “You could have saved me a lot of breath.” Ohno just nuzzles his head closer against Nino’s neck, smiling in a faintly smug and completely adorable way.

Eventually Ohno gently pulls himself away from Nino’s body, and the loss of his warmth stuns Nino for a moment. He shakes his head dumbly, then focuses on Ohno kneeling damp and sticky beside him.

“ _Don’t sit on the bed, Oh-chan_!” Nino yelps in a sudden moment of OCD, leaping up, or at least trying to, to fetch towels from the bathroom. “You’re a mess!” Ohno gapes at him exhaustedly for a minute.

“Whose fault is _that_?” he manages eventually, as Nino rolls him over to sprawl across the towel spread on the bedcovers and bossily begins to rub him down. “Ow,” says Ohno mildly, and Nino apologises and begins to clean him up more gently, dropping kisses across his over-sensitised skin. Nino watches Ohno stretch all the way to the tips of his toes, narrow chest heaving, then grimace as he moves his legs gingerly. “Ow,” he says again.

“Sorry if I hurt you, Oh-chan,” murmurs Nino, giving himself a quick going-over with the towel and grinning. He reclines next to Ohno and begins to stroke his hair comfortingly, lovingly. “But it was _you_ who was going like the freakin’ bullet train, not me!”

“I may have got carried away,” Ohno admits, beginning to purr under Nino’s administrations. “But your dick feels really good.”

“Thanks for the endorsement.” Nino snorts. None of his girlfriends have ever put it quite like that. “How about something a bit more romantic?”

“Love you,” says Ohno, exhaustedly.

“That’s nicer. I love you too,” Nino tells him.

“…I ache,” complains Ohno, as his muscles begin to cool down. “I’m getting stiff.” Nino raises his eyebrows. “No, in a bad way,” Ohno tells him.

“Come on then, old man,” Nino sighs, rolling Ohno over onto his stomach. “You want a nice cup of cocoa?” he asks in overstated concern as he begins to massage Ohno into pliant, boneless relaxation.

“Maybe I do,” mutters Ohno, making little noises of contentment.

“You’re _such_ a hot ojii-san,” Nino says happily. “Just let me have a little rest too, then I’ll run you a nice bath.”

Once he’s finished, he curls into Ohno’s arms, feeling the slow beat of the other man’s heart against his own. He tucks his head under Ohno’s chin, lets him play with his hair, and reflects on what they’ve done, all these new things he’ll be doing to Ohno every day from now on if he has his way, memorising all the tiny changes and the things that stay the same. And then this, this closeness, this comfort that hasn’t changed at all in the last decade, although admittedly he and Ohno aren’t usually naked when they cuddle.

“I can’t wait to see you when you’re forty,” he tells Ohno sleepily, lulled by the elegant fingers tracing soft shapes against his scalp.

“Give me a chance,” exclaims Ohno, and Nino feels the vibration of a chuckle in his chest. “I only just turned thirty!”

“Getting old is fantastic,” Nino says blissfully, ignoring him. Ohno sniffs dubiously.

Nino feels himself drifting, thinking about it, until Ohno’s fingers stop their movement.

“Check it out, Nino,” he says casually. “You’ve got a grey hair.”

“YOU WHAT!??” Nino sits bolt upright and pats at his head frantically, looking for a mirror. He looks down to see Ohno sniggering at him.

“Getting old is _so fantastic_ ,” says Ohno, his round face twitching with laughter. Nino gapes at him, growls, and tackles him, pinning his arms above his head.

“You’re going to _pay_ for that.”

Ohno grins.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say, now I'm also on the other side of 30, Ohno does seem to be making a fuss about nothing. But then, I'm not an idol :)


End file.
